High Desert Cowboy (High Sierra Book 2)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  She smiled sweetly as she held out her gloved hand across the table to Hank.

  His friend looked at the hand in mid-air and swallowed hard. Taking another gulp, he reached out and gently took her hand with a thumb and finger, obviously terrified of crushing her hand.

  Rebecca gave him her best smile. “It is so nice to meet a friend of Mr. Rhodes. With as prickly as he can be, I would have sworn he would be friendless.”

  Hank laughed then slapped Dusty on the back. “He should be, but I’m a tolerant type person. Very forgiving.”

  Dusty coughed as he fought to regain his breath. Hank was as tolerant as granite and as forgiving as a New England preacher.

  “You really shouldn’t be in here, Miss Carson,” he said to her.

  She shrugged her shoulders as she started to remove her gloves. “There are a lot of things that should not happen. Yet we must do what we must.”

  Dusty studied her for a moment, surprised at how happy he was to see her again. He had missed the fire in her eyes. The way she looked in a fine dress. All woman. The way she could smile and the world felt better. Yet there was something in her eyes that told him things were not going well. A sadness.

  “What can I do for you Miss Carson?” he asked as his gut tightened.

  She took a deep breath and he saw it again, that worried sadness. “John has not returned,” she said with a hesitation in her voice that pulled at him. He winced, that was not good. No wonder she was upset. A man being lost out in that desert for a day was bad. Twelve days was fatal.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, giving her a look that let her know that he meant it. He really was sorry for her loss.

  She bit her lip and nodded, accepting his condolences. But he could see her fighting to hold off the tears.

  “Yes, well,” she began, “that is why I am here. It seems I have inherited a ranch. I have already confirmed with Judge Benson that it is the case. As John’s only living relative. The ranch is now my responsibility.”

  Dusty nodded, “You planning on selling. The Ladder S would be interested.”

  She stiffened in her chair, “No, never. John’s dream was to build a working ranch.”

  Dusty shot Hank a quick look, they both knew how hard it would be for a woman to run a ranch. She’d have to deal with ornery cowboys, wild stock, drought and flash floods. Diseases and crooked stockyards. None of it easy for a man, let alone a woman not trained in the manner.

  “That is why,” she said before pausing for a moment. “Why I have come to you. I’d like to hire you as my foreman.”

  Hank coughed as he tried to hide his shock. Dusty scowled over at him. “Hey, I could be a foreman.”

  His friend scowled back and shook his head. “Sure, but you never wanted that kind of responsibility. Remember when Capt. Stewart wanted to make you a Sargent and you refused? You said you didn’t like telling other men what to do. I don’t see that a ranch foreman is much different.”

  Hank turned to her and furrowed his brow. “Why him? I mean there are a dozen men in town with experience.”

  Miss Carson studied Hank for a long moment then said, “Because he has enough mean in him to make sure the job gets done.”

  Hank pursed his lips as he pondered the woman’s words then nodded. “You’re right about that. I don’t know anyone meaner when it comes to a tough job.”

  Dusty ignored them as he thought of what it would take. The responsibility that would rest on his shoulders. The wrong decision could get a man killed, or lose this woman her ranch. She could end up penniless and destitute if he made a mistake. He grunted to himself. She could end up penniless and destitute even if he did everything right.

  “I should warn you,” Miss Carson began, “I have just come from the bank. There are no funds available.”

  “Peabody won’t loan you more?” Dusty asked with a frown. Things were going from bad to worse.

  Miss Carson sighed slightly then shook her head. “What is more, I need to find a way to pay off the loan within six weeks.”

  Hank whistled and shook his head, “Never did like bankers. They have a habit of sucking the life out of the world.”

  Dusty studied her as she shot Hank a quick smile, silently thanking him for being on her side.

  Grimacing, Dusty took a deep breath as he turned to Miss Carson with a raised eyebrow. What would she expect of him? He couldn’t abide the idea of being at her beck and call. Doing things her way because she owned the ranch. He’d bristle and snap under that scenario.

  The woman needed help. But it had to be on his terms.

  He saw the realization settle over her as he continued to study her. Waiting for her.

  “You would be in charge,” she said with a heavy sigh. “In all things dealing with the ranch. I promise not to interfere.”

  He could see the pain it caused her to say the words. Miss Carson despised the idea of someone else being in charge.

  His shoulders slumped when he saw she was serious, that was one thing at least. Of course, there was the entire issue of working closely with her. Day in, day out. But he wasn’t going to bring that up. It was his problem and he was going to have to deal with it. Besides, he’d be spending his time out on the range.

  Foreman for the C-Bar. It was a tall task. The ranch needed so much. Could he do it?

  “I don’t know,” he said to her.

  She hesitated as she bit her lip. She looked so innocent, so lost. It tore at his very soul. The woman needed his help. But she wouldn’t beg, he realized. She’d die before she begged.

  “Very well,” he told her. “I’ll do it. At least until we save the ranch. Then I’ll want to move on.” A sense of trepidation washed through him when he saw a sense of hope flash behind her eyes. Her happiness and her wellbeing were now his responsibility.

  He swore to himself. He wouldn’t let the ranch fail. It was going to take a lot of hard work and even more luck. But somehow. Somehow, this woman would be allowed to be happy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rebecca sighed inside. It had taken every bit of courage to come into the saloon and ask this man for help. She hated admitting that she couldn’t do it herself. But really, there was no other way. She didn’t have the experience necessary. If she was going to save John’s dream, she had to lower herself and ask for help.

  And really. Who better than Dusty Rhodes? He had proven himself intelligent, willing to risk himself for what he believed in. And most important, trustworthy.

  No, she would never second guess her decision. It was the right one. And perhaps her only hope.

  Mr. Rhodes pursed his lips then turned to his huge friend. “Find Sam Hopper, tell him he’s got a job at the C-Bar.” Then he turned back to her, “You got any problem hiring a Negro?”

  “No, of course not,” she responded.

  “Good. He’s an ex-buffalo soldier, the best man with horses I know.”

  “Even better than Dusty,” Hank said as he took a drink from his beer. “And that’s saying something.”

  Rebecca nodded. “There is the matter of the hands already on the ranch. I don’t have the money to pay them let alone another cowboy. Or get Consuela the supplies she needs.”

  Mr. Rhodes nodded, “I’ll deal with it.”

  Her back stiffened. How could he say that? How could he dismiss it as a minor problem? She started to ask him how when she stopped herself. No, she had promised she wouldn’t question him.

  Instead, she turned to his friend, Mr. Richards. The man was huge, with a nasty scar over his left eye. When he wasn’t scowling, he had a twinkle to his eyes. Especially when he was teasing Mr. Rhodes.

  “And you, Mr. Richards? Are you looking for work?”

  Mr. Richards coughed as Mr. Rhodes shook his head.

  “Hank doesn’t like cows and they don’t like him.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” Mr. Richards said. “But, no. I aim to do some prospecting. And now that Dusty here is the foreman to a fancy ranch, and Sargent Tan
ner has himself a pretty valley and a prettier wife, I can’t fall behind. I guess I’ll have to hit the mother lode to keep up.”

  Mr. Rhodes laughed, “You been looking for seven years and ain’t found squat. What makes you think it will be any different this time?”

  The big man laughed. “You just got hired to run one of the biggest ranches in the state. That itself proves that anything is possible.”

  Rebecca smiled. She enjoyed seeing them tease and push at each other. It spoke of their respect and caring.

  “I’ll be off,” Mr. Richards said as he stood up. “It was a pleasure, Ma’am,” he said as he dipped his hat then indicated Mr. Rhodes. “Don’t let this one run roughshod over you. Pull him up tight every so often. It does him good.”

  She smiled up at him. “Thank You, Mr. Richards, It was a pleasure meeting you.” As he walked away, Mr. Rhodes leaned forward.

  “I was serious. You ever need help and I’m not around. You find him. Ain’t no man tougher or better in a fight.”

  Her insides turned over at the idea of Mr. Rhodes not being there. For some deep reason that bothered her much more than it should have.

  “Let us hope that doesn’t come to be,” she said to him as she sent up a silent prayer. If she lost Mr. Rhodes, she would truly be trouble, she realized.

  .o0o.

  Dusty looked back at the supplies in the wagon and shook his head. It had taken half the money in his pocket to get them. And they’d have to last until he got a herd in. But knowing Consuela, she would use her magic and make it work.

  Big Red, tied behind the wagon shot him a look of disgust. As if asking, what disaster was he leading them into this time?

  Glancing to the woman next to him, he agreed with the horse and could only wonder what he’d gotten himself into. There was every chance that he would fail. He knew Peabody. If they came up one dollar short, he’d repossess in a heartbeat.

  “A couple of rules,” he said to her as he flicked the reins to keep the horse moving.

  She raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised that he thought he could dictate rules.

  “No more going into saloons. Once can be thought of as eccentric. More than once, and the wives around here will have you working for Rusty Simmons. Nothing they would like better than tearing down a beautiful woman.”

  Miss Carson studied him for a long moment. “You forget Mr. Rhodes,” she began with a steady stare. “I am a woman. I well know how tongues can wag.”

  He nodded, “Next, no going to town alone.”

  She gasped and shook her head. “Mr. Rhodes, I said that you were in charge of the ranch. I did not say that you could dictate my actions.”

  “You are the ranch,” he said through tightened teeth. “If we lose you, we lose the ranch. And may I remind you that your brother is missing? We still don’t know what happened.”

  Her face drained of color as she began to understand. “Surely ... I mean ...”

  “Yes, they would. This here is a big, open land. You are rich and beautiful. More than a temptation. It only takes one bad man in the wrong place. So, promise me. No going to town alone. In fact, I don’t want you walking out into the hills around the house without someone with you.”

  She was silent for a long moment then sighed heavily, “For now.”

  He smiled and nodded, glad to have won a minor point without having to hogtie her to a chair in the house.

  “I have a request,” she said. “I would prefer if you called me Rebecca. Miss Carson sounds too formal. And I will call you Dusty. Unless you wish to tell me your real name.”

  He laughed and shook his head, “Dusty is just fine. I wouldn’t know how to answer to anything else.”

  Her eyes studied him for a long moment and he knew she was trying to work out the mystery of his birth name. Let her wonder. Somethings she just didn’t need to know.

  Once again, an awkward silence fell over them. Dusty wondered if it would always be this way whenever they were alone together. This underlying knowledge that she was a woman and he was a man. This pull and push tension.

  Careful, he reminded himself. She was from a different world with different ideas as to what a man should be. And she was his boss. About as off-limits as a woman could be.

  Flicking the reins again, he bit down on the feelings growing inside of him.

  That was how the day played out until he pulled the horse and wagon to a stop in front of the main house.

  He tied off the reins to the brake handle. After handing Rebecca down, he turned to watch the cowhands step out of the bunkhouse. Best get this over with he thought as he started for the men. The Jacob Palmer fellow scowled, obviously upset about something. Young Tom wasn’t with them. Probably off working.

  Dusty pulled to a stop before them and slowly examined each one. Then, shaking his head, he said, “You three are fired. Here’s your pay. Grab your gear and hit the trail.”

  “What?” one of them barked.

  Dusty scowled back at him. “I didn’t stutter. You heard me.”

  “You can’t fire us,” Palmer said then spit to his right.

  Dusty held still, just staring him down, daring him to challenge him. There was nothing he would like more than busting this man’s head. They’d loafed and taken advantage of Rebecca.

  Behind him, he heard a petticoat rustle. He should have told her to stay away. Men didn’t like backing down in front of a woman.

  The tension shot up as Palmer glanced at her then back at him. Dusty could read it in his eyes. The man desperately didn’t want to back down. His fingers flexed next to his gun as he tried to figure out if he was fast enough.

  “Come on,” one of the other cowboys said, “That’s Dusty Rhodes.”

  “I don’t care who he is,” Palmer hissed.

  The cowboy shook his head as he stepped away, giving the two men room. Dusty’s insides tightened into a ball. Rebecca was too close. But if he backed down now, he’d never have control.

  The two men stared at each other like rattlers on a trail. Neither willing to move. Until at last, Palmer's shoulders slumped in defeat. He shot Rebecca an evil stare, obviously furious that she had seen him back down and take water.

  “Come on,” Palmer said to his partners with a bitter snap. “I bet the Ladder S is hiring.”

  The three of them shot each other a knowing look. A look that set Dusty’s mind to whirling. What was that about?

  They each came forward and received their pay. When they had returned to the bunkhouse to get their gear, Dusty swallowed hard. That could have gone so much worse.

  “That was the last of your money, wasn’t it?” Rebecca said from behind him.

  He nodded without taking his eyes off the bunkhouse.

  “I thought that man was going to shoot you.”

  Dusty scoffed then said over his shoulder while keeping one eye on the door. “The next time you think there might be shooting. Do me a favor and be somewhere else.”

  Her cheeks grew pink. She obviously hated being reprimanded but she needed to learn. He couldn’t protect her if she insisted on getting in the way.

  She growled under her breath then shot him an angry look before gathering her dress and marching off in a huff.

  He ignored her as he stood there until the three men came out with their gear and watched as they saddled their horses and raced away. That look between them about the Ladder S worried him. But he wouldn’t find the answer tonight, he thought.

  When he stepped into the barn, the goat bleated at him as if asking where he’d been for the last two weeks. Prince was tied up, freshly combed. Young Tom stuck his head out of the stall and smiled. The boy couldn’t be more than sixteen. Dusty wondered about his back story. A family lost along the way. A home too rough to tolerate. Or just a need to be out on his own.

  “I just fired the other hands,” he told the boy. “You’re welcome to stay, or I can pay you off. Your decision.”

  Tom frowned for a moment then shrugged his sh
oulders before returning to mucking out the stall. “I like it here. And that Mrs. Consuela can cook.”

  Dusty laughed, the boy wasn’t wrong and had enough sense to know what was important.

  “Unload the wagon and see to the team,” he told the young boy. “Make sure Big Red gets some oats.”

  Tom nodded as he hurried off to do as he was bid.

  Dusty sighed to himself as he toured the barn and then out to examine the extra horses in the corral. He shook his head, the stock wasn’t bad, just not enough of them for what he planned on doing.

  Once he was done with the horses he turned and looked out over the desert, the distant green of the trees along the Truckee river held his attention. This time of year. there would be good grass down there. That was where they would gather the herd.

  Satisfied to have the beginning of a plan, he walked to the bunkhouse and opened the door. The place smelled like every other bunkhouse he’d ever been in, a strong combination of wet leather, used socks, and horse.

  Home, he thought with a smile as he tossed his saddlebags on the bunk farthest from the door. They needed more hands but without money, his options were limited.

  As he started for the main house, Consuela greeted him at the door with a big smile. “Mr. Dusty, Miss Rebecca says you are to eat with her, in the main room.”

  He sighed internally. She was already trying to change things. Hands ate in the covered patio behind the house.

  You’re not a hand, he reminded himself. He was the foreman. Taking a deep breath, he went inside. He found her already seated, waiting for him. Removing his hat, he sat down across from her and leaned back as Consuela place a plate of steak and potatoes in front of him.

  “I assume you are going out to inspect the ranch tomorrow?” Miss Carson began. She’s Rebecca, he reminded himself, liking the way her name sounded in his mind.

  “Yes,” he answered simply as he cut into his steak.

  “I would like to go with you,” she said.

  At least it was a request and not an order, he thought to himself as he shook his head. “Can’t get a wagon into the places I’ll be going,”

  Her lips grew firm for a second then she nodded. “I can ride, Mr. … Dusty.”